The New Year sucks
by accident prone
Summary: Oneshot. The New Year is here, which means that Zelos's dysfunctional mother is here. No worries for the most part, though. Lloyd is here. Mildly AU, since Mylene exists. Zelos/Lloyd.


**A/N: Hello, all! It's been awhile since I posted something here, so I thought with the season, I'd write something about dysfunctional families. Of course, I first started considering writing this around Thanksgiving, so there's that. XD It's been fun to write, though! Hope y'all enjoy.**

**Also, do not own.**

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><p>If you didn't count the agonized screaming, Zelos Wilder was the picture of calmness and serenity after he hung up the phone. Lloyd waited five full seconds before asking, "Who was that?"<p>

The only response he got from the sprawled tangle of limbs that took up the entire couch was a strangled "_Aaaaaaahhghhhhhhhhhh_."

Enlightening.

"That," Sebastian called from the next room, calmly drying dishes, "would be his mother."

Lacking the energy to glare, Zelos just shifted the hand over his eyes and said, "Thanks, Jeeves," at which Sebastian did not take offense for some reason. For some reason, he simply raised an amused brow and kept drying.

"Your mother," Lloyd repeated.

There was a small, humorless curve to Zelos' lips at this. "My mother," he agreed with heavy weight to his words, and sighed, and said, "Shit."

It is not often that Lloyd gets to see Zelos vulnerable, despite the fact that they have been travelling together and living together for nearly four years at this point. He has spent most of this time doing his best to read Zelos, and he thinks he does a pretty fine job, but Zelos is always surprising him. And that can be frustrating.

Here is what he does know. Sometimes Zelos will laugh when something is blatantly unfunny, and when he's stressed, he turns pale and every motion is calculated. It doesn't appear this way, of course. Each motion is dancing across the room, a wide grin, a boisterous laugh, a carefree hand sweeping a mass of red curls back and around, and a mocking drawl that never degrade into anything resembling the honest emotion Lloyd sees every day. It's easy to discount Zelos' sharp intelligence at times like this, because there is no trace of his cunning or ever so slightly narrowed eyes when he's seeing something he needs to study closer. There is only performance.

Zelos is starting to do this now, as he snaps on his long gloves and gives close attention to the placement of his headband, grinning a sideways grin with teeth. Lloyd is silent as he watches this display, because he is reading Zelos, and this is far too familiar for comfort. It makes him uneasy.

"All right!" Zelos cheers, and spins from the mirror in a manner that is far too dramatic to be natural. He spreads his hands and grins down at Lloyd. "Do I look beautiful? Tell me I'm beautiful, Lloyd-o."

Lloyd does think Zelos is beautiful. There's a certain natural wonder to the man, and Lloyd can't help but think that at times like this, Zelos contains the beauty of a glacier, all cold ice and reflection of sunlight and smooth glamour. He's breathtaking, of course, but he's not the kind of beauty right now that Lloyd can touch.

"You're beautiful," Lloyd says automatically without thinking of it. It's nothing but habit. Zelos grins in response, and flounces to the middle of the living room.

"Gotta vacuum," he says by way of explanation, and his grin is so practiced, so dazzling, that Lloyd has to remember exactly whom he's speaking to. "My mother's coming over. My mother," he says, and there's a brief twist to his grin, a quick narrowing of the eyes to remember something bitter.

"Your mother," Lloyd agrees, but can't help but wonder at the obsessivness of Zelos' cleaning, at the flourish of an added decorative cover over the back of the couch. The place looked fine—looked _great_—before. So why this?

But Zelos is still moving, still in constant motion, and raps his knuckles over the back of Lloyd's shoulder before Lloyd can notice him moving from the couch. "We got three hours before they get here, so let's make the most of it," and there's that confident, almost mockingly seductive grin again, and before Lloyd knows it, he's snapping, "Stop that."

Zelos looks like he wants to laugh. He gazes at Lloyd like it's all a joke, and says, still amused, "Stop what, hunny?"

And Lloyd doesn't say _you know what_, because Zelos' causal use of the word _hunny _is making his blood pressure rise—_again, dammit_—and he stops himself from any reaction over that word, because he knows that that's exactly what Zelos wants him to do. Zelos wants him to get caught up in the reaction and leave all the honest emotion behind. Zelos wants his frustration more than anything else right now, and Lloyd is not giving it to him. No, Lloyd is going to stay calm. Or at least that's what he tells himself.

"Zelos," he says evenly. "You know I love you, but seriously?" And he watches in fascination as Zelos' face blanches. "Seriously. Stop it."

There's a moment of silence, and Lloyd can feel parts of Zelos coming back. Zelos isn't meeting his eyes, and is studying the carpet with a side-sweep of his eyes, mouth covered by a gloved hand. It's awhile before he speaks, and when he does, his words are heavy and he has to sigh first.

"Lloyd," Zelos says, and he looks vulnerable and darkly terrified at this point, but he's there. He's there, and he's being honest, that that's really what Lloyd wants from him. "Lloyd, my mother is coming over."

As if that can explain everything. It doesn't, but Lloyd thinks that maybe he is starting to understand. "Yeah," says in response. "And so is everyone else. It's New Year's."

Zelos' eyes are sharp and on him, and he says, "I know that. But _my mother _is coming over." He stresses this. He just keeps stressing this, and Lloyd is helpless to understand this one. "I cannot—_cannot_—give her any reason whatsoever to exploit any weakness on my part. Does that make sense?" Lloyd doesn't say anything, so Zelos rakes a hand through his curls and says, "So you're just gonna have to put up with this for a day or two. Okay?"

It's not okay, but Lloyd sighs and nods anyway. But there's something different to the way Zelos walks after this little conversation. His mouth is more of a flat line, and his shoulders are broad and stiff, his eyes cold and hard as he moves like he's going into a battle he can't win.

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><p>It is nine in the evening, and the party is still going strong. Lloyd is eating cheese and standing on the side, watching. He is watching Zelos become the life of it, mostly, but is also watching the wan smiles of Zelos' mother. He's also doing his best to ignore Genis, who has made funny faces at him each time he notices Lloyd glancing over at Zelos. His eyes will squint, and he will wrinkle his nose. Genis is a matter-of-fact little half-elf, and has on more than one instance echoed his sister's words at Lloyd.<p>

_Really, Lloyd, I don't know why you stay with him_.

Lloyd has tried to explain, but either his words aren't articulate enough or his friends aren't understanding enough, or both. Because maybe in a way, Lloyd doesn't understand why he stays with Zelos, at least not in terms of words. The space in his chest that gives off a low, warm tingle whenever Zelos puts a hand on the small of Lloyd's back to slip around him into the kitchen knows, but Lloyd isn't sure he can put what that space knows into words. He's not sure there are words.

Right now, Mylene's fingers are scratching lightly along the bare skin on Zelos' shoulder as she whispers poisonous words. Zelos' eyes meet Lloyd's from across the room, and he looks entirely helpless and lost.

It isn't long before he's made his way over to Lloyd, his mother close by. "Zelos," she says, and her lips are curled into the kind of smile Lloyd only sees on Zelos when Zelos is at his very worst, "Do introduce me to your friend, here," and Zelos is stiff and unmoving as Mylene scratches her long, red fingernails up and down the bare space of Zelos' arm.

"This is Lloyd." Zelos' words are quick, choppy, sharp. "Lloyd, this is my mother."

She pinches him. It's a faux-playful motion, and one that makes Lloyd wince. "Tell him my name, love." Her voice is sugary sweet condensation that makes his skin crawl. Her eyes are frozen coals that put Zelos at his very worst to shame.

Something ignites for a moment in Zelos' eyes, which never remove themselves from Lloyd's. "This is my mother," Zelos said, and Lloyd is pretty sure his teeth are clenched. "Mylene Wilder."

Mylene presses her rust-red lips together in the impersonation of a smile, and purrs, "That's my boy. Didn't think that would be so hard."

Zelos is biting his tongue hard. Lloyd can tell. Mylene doesn't notice however, and removes her hand for a moment to press it to her lips.

"Goodness," she breathes. "I do need a drink. Get me one, why don't you, Zelos? And a chair. Bring a chair for your sister."

"Of course," Zelos says coolly, and jerks his chin towards the kitchen, an indication for Lloyd to follow. Lloyd does, of course, and soon it's only them and Sebastian in the kitchen, and Zelos is pale, paler than usual, and his hands are shaking.

"I could kick them out," Sebastian offers, but Zelos is already shaking his head before he even finishes, pacing through the roomy kitchen.

"No," Zelos mutters. "No, I need to stay on their good side."

"Why?" Lloyd blurts before realizing that it might be a tad blunt. "Why do you need to owe them anything?"

Zelos turns to look at Lloyd, and he's even paler than before. The lines on his face are harsh and thick, and the dark circles under his eyes look like bruises from stress. "Because," he says finally, "My sister lives with her, and I can't lose contact with my sister. It's not worth it." Zelos is running his hands through his hair again, and his eyes are closed and pained. Lloyd can feel the beat of the former Chosen's heart from here as if it's his own, slamming fast again his ribcage and catching on itself. "I might as well just suck it up. It's not like she calls that much anyway. Did you know that the last time she contacted me at all was before I met you?" His slow smile was like a heart cracking and turning blue. "Guess I should be grateful."

Lloyd isn't quite sure how to respond to this, because this isn't his area of expertise. Oh, there are areas enough where he and Zelos do understand each other perfectly, but this isn't one of them. Lloyd doesn't have experience with cold, selfish parents, mothers even less. He's used to the complications and tangles of family ties that are difficult to explain. The sort of pain that comes with the familial complications Zelos has grown up with, wrapping slipknots of ties around your neck isn't one that Lloyd is familiar with. Or comfortable with.

Still, he reaches over and puts his hand on the area between Zelos' two shoulders, hoping too late that this isn't as intrusive as Mylene's nails on Zelos' skin, tracing tattoos as if to claim it hers, but Zelos dispels this by sighing and relaxing slightly into Lloyd's hand, pained expression easing up a little.

"I'm still here," Lloyd reminds his friend, and it hurts his throat to get the words out. Zelos gives a shuddery breath, and clamps his hands together. Still stressed. Still worried. Shoulders still uncomfortably tense. Lloyd continues. "Sebastian's still here."

There's a weak, vulnerable smile on Zelos' lips. "Sebastian doesn't count. Of course he's here. I pay him to be here."

"I'd still be here if you weren't paying me," Sebastian says, somehow managing a tone of voice that is at once dry and gentle.

Zelos doesn't have anything to say to this, so he just studies the floor with slowly shifting eyes and a smile that makes it seem like he's beginning to be warmed out of the ice. Lloyd senses that this is a good time to continue, so he squeezes Zelos' shoulder softly and says, "And hey. When they all go home, we're still going to be here."

"Well," Zelos says, and it sounds like he's at a loss. "There is that."

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><p>It's probably another seven minutes before Zelos feels brave enough to stride out into the open. That's the thing about Lloyd. Lloyd makes him weaker in all the ways he used to be strongest, and that leaves him susceptible to his mother's influence. He knows it drives Lloyd crazy, but there's not much to do about that at this point. Honestly, Lloyd doesn't know how lucky he is that Zelos hasn't bolted, shoving Lloyd over to a much cleaner, much more wholesome and healthy life and experience.<p>

Because that's the thing. No matter how much Zelos may know Lloyd better than the others, no matter how many more moments the two have shared or how many painfully honest and real moments, no matter how much Zelos doesn't underestimate the hero where everyone else does, the fact still remains that Zelos, even on his better days, is one fucked up son of a bitch. Regardless of the reasons, he's fucked up, and Lloyd should not have to deal with that. That's probably what he has the biggest difficulty with, is Lloyd's choice to stay. For some unfathomable reason, Lloyd is staying by Zelos' side, day after day, on purpose. And that's after meeting Zelos. Without blackmail or anything.

It's all a bit surreal at times.

Any comments of "you know, I bet Sheena is missing you" have gone halfway ignored, halfway answered with an absentminded "well, she should visit us, then." It's completely baffling that Lloyd is still here. Completely odd and peculiar that what they have—whatever it is—has managed to not fall apart for so long. Somehow. Lloyd is always a somehow.

Zelos can't remember the last time he moved so silently, so quietly at a party. He holds his mother's drink in his hand as he makes his way over to her, and finds himself looking for Lloyd again. He can never figure out how someone dressed in bright, bright, bright tomato red manages to blend into a crowd, but Lloyd finds a way every time. Every damn time.

"I'm always looking for you," Zelos mutters to himself. And it's true. In some way or another, he's always searching for Lloyd Irving, has always been searching for Lloyd Irving. He supposes it makes sense, in a way, that he'd be apprehensive about his emotions towards the hero. This isn't what he's used to. Even now, years after his mother's departure, he's used to working to please her, to make her laugh. It makes him wonder if anyone can break free of their childhood.

He's not finding Lloyd, here, but that's okay. He doesn't need to find Lloyd. He doesn't need Lloyd in order to get through this. Zelos his own wits and own self-preservation about him, and any complicated feelings he has can just take the back burner for now.

Zelos' mind is still wandering in the general direction of Lloyd when he finds his mother and hands the drink to her wordlessly. She presses her lips together and squints her dark eyes at him as if that's enough smile to warm that part of his heart that's still aching and crunchy from frost, and pats him on the cheek and says, "Wonderful, honey, now why don't you introduce me to the rest of your friends?" and Zelos wonders where this irritated, bristling sensation came from, because he never used to feel like this, never used to feel, period, and—

Ah. Right. He's panicking again.

But he swallows the heavy beating horses hooves in his chest and the part of him that more than anything wants to snap back flatly,_ no, fuck you, they hate me_, and moves forward to introduce his mother to the one who probably hates him most of all: Kratos Aurion.

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><p>Zelos isn't quite sure how he finds Lloyd, but he does. Lloyd's at the top of the stairs, barely visible in the dim light up here. He's motionless, just watching the bustling activity down below. Zelos hesitates only a minute before staggering up the last few stairs and positioning himself next to the red-clothed man. He takes a moment to catch his breath. He wishes he could say it was all from the exertion of getting the hell out of downstairs, but in reality, part of it is also seeing Lloyd, and he knows it. Lloyd is bathed in the kind of golden light that is so subtle, it's impossible to see when you first meet him. But after four years, Zelos is seeing it and feeling it in full, and it makes his breath stop in his throat like a skipped heartbeat, makes him stare longer than he should, makes him stumble over himself, and makes him breathe in panicked gulps. Because while there have been crushes before, there have never been Lloyds before, and like the childhood dreamer who suddenly finds himself adult and finally standing at the microphone for a recording session, he's scared shitless that he's going to mess this up. Somehow. At times, it seems like that's all he does. Just mess things up. Just wreak havoc.<p>

"Hey," Lloyd says, and Zelos remembers to breathe again, at once thinking _oh, god, that voice_.

"Hey," Zelos says in response. They've both been quiet, held back this evening. It makes Zelos want to tread carefully. They're almost never this quiet together. There've been times when travelling that they've fallen into lazy, contented silence, but there's an underlying tension to this that makes Zelos a bit jittery. A bit jumpy.

"You got away."

"I got away. Mom and Kratos really hit it off. Somehow."

Lloyd looks horrified for a moment. "If they get married, I am disowning him." His voice is firm, full of finality. No argument there. It's something Zelos has always thought Lloyd should do. He considers plotting that possibility, but quickly scraps the idea. The wedding would be a nightmare, and he'd have to live with himself afterwards.

"Sounds good," Zelos says, and knows instinctively that now is not the time to mention that maybe Lloyd should just disown Kratos right _now_, because Kratos is a dick, anyway. That sort of talk always gets Lloyd a bit tetchy. He wants Lloyd just like this now; with his voice all warmed hot chocolate and his body radiating the comfort of a chair by a fire. He needs Lloyd just like this now. He's already feeling better, just feeling his presence like this.

In some ways, it's making all this worse, because intellectually Zelos knows that he needs Lloyd, perhaps in more of a way than he's getting right now. He knows that it's selfish of him to want more than he can have, but somehow telling himself that doesn't dampen the feeling at all. If anything, the feeling grows more defiant, demanding what Zelos isn't sure he can give or get. Or sustain.

He figures that that's maybe what's terrifying him most, because he knows that he _is _terrified, has been terrified over this whole…attachment towards Lloyd thing for quite awhile. He knows and recognizes the signs. That's the thing. Zelos is an expert on blinding them with dazzle and sparkle in the short term. It's not something he can maintain forever, especially when they're in such close proximity to him. He's not an expert in keeping the wonder in their eyes for the long term. While Zelos may not be the best expert on relationships, he's pretty sure that it wouldn't take long for Lloyd to leave, and he's not sure he can take Lloyd leaving. He's fucked up without help. He doesn't need another slam to his psyche.

"Hey," Lloyd mumbles, and he isn't looking right at Zelos—Zelos wonders if Lloyd feels as much like a bumbling teenager as Zelos himself does—and he holding Zelos' hand, _he's holding Zelos' hand_, and he's kind of rubbing warmth into it, and he absentmindedly remembers to pick up the sentence, and continues, "You don't have to go back tonight. It's two in the morning. They can figure it out."

Zelos is trying to concentrate on responding to that, but Lloyd's fingers on his hand are making it difficult, and he wonders if he might be blushing—which he never, _ever_ does; the Great Zelos does _not _blush—and his face is feeling very warm, warmer by the moment. This of course amounts to him staggering out "Oh. Well. Good. Because I. Didn't plan. On going back." And then a pause, and an awkwardly placed "…yeah" as if it's necessary, as if with all the halts and pauses it wasn't quite obvious where the sentence ended.

Lloyd makes a vague _mm-hm_, sound, and Zelos' chest is contracting like he's been trying hard to hold in a cough, which he always hates, because you're sick but holding it in holding it in holding it in until you think you're ready to explode and your chest feels all fluttery like a feather is tickling you in your ribcage, and then you can't control it and it's starting to explode out your throat and you're _kissing _him, and—

And oh, shit. Zelos is kissing him.

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><p>Lloyd isn't quite sure what he expected, but Zelos staring hard at their hands together, and then fumbling over speech as if he feels as awkward as Lloyd does, and then suddenly kissing him out of nowhere is not quite what he expected, even on an unconscious level. He can tell because he has several simultaneous thoughts, most of which make no sense. He thinks at this point, <em>what the hell, <em>then _awesome_, then _what the _hell? then _oh man, finally, _then _wow, Zelos can kiss way better than my pillow, which has lint on it, _then _asdfghjkl he is kissing me_ and then he doesn't really remember much else other than Zelos pulling away almost suddenly and giving a violently shuddering breath and saying roughly, "Shit," which pretty much exactly sums up how Lloyd feels.

_Don't put your fingers to your lips, that is such a girl thing to do, _Lloyd tells himself, but his fingers are already touching his lips, that tingle as if he's rubbed them hard with mint leaves, and he says in agreement, "_Shit_." And then, after a moment: "That was awesome."

Zelos is covering his mouth with both hands, and is staring at Lloyd as if Lloyd tricked him into it. A little scared. A little wary. A very little indignant. As if covering his lips will stop him from doing it again, as if that's the most important thing on the table—that it not happen again.

"Sorry," he says, and somehow manages to enunciate through the cracks in his long fingers. "I, uh." There's a pause, and Zelos' ears are tinting themselves pink, flowing into red. "I didn't. Mean to do that. Sorry." And it hits him then that Zelos is _embarrassed, _which Lloyd finds for that moment completely adorable. Not to mention by far preferable to the cold, uneasy presence he's been feeling all day.

Zelos raises his eyes to the ceiling, and his hands tighten on Lloyd's. He's muttering under his breath, and doesn't attempt to remove his hands from Lloyd's, which Lloyd finds comforting and promising in itself.

Once he's finished, he lets out a shaky breath and his eyes meet Lloyd's for a perfect moment, and Lloyd is stricken again by the deep, unusual blue of the ex-Chosen's eyes, a color impossible to find in nature or even in a deluxe crayon box. But he stays silent, just watching those eyes. He's always found that when Zelos is having moments like this, it's best to just stay where you are and wait for Zelos to be ready to do whatever he needs to do. This time doesn't prove to be different, because Zelos's eyes look clear but perplexed and only a little anxious now, and he says like he's falling, "_Martel,_ Lloyd, I want to try for this."

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><p>Zelos's love of math is not as simple as finding math simpler to deal with than human beings, or in how much he loves its predictability—an area in which life has failed him most drastically—or in how much he just enjoys working down overly complicated soups of equations into something that makes perfect, universal sense. No, at least a large amount of Zelos's love of math comes from the fact that a lot of the time is has been the only thing that distracts him enough from his storm of unending panic to make him remember the breathe, remember to think, Because math <em>is <em>safe. Math gives him something to hide behind, a cloak to immerse himself in.

Some people find it simple to escape like that. All they have to do is obey the little command to "go to their happy place," but for Zelos, it is more of a "compute in your head how many ceiling tiles you have, including the ones that are interrupted by the wall or by the light.

So Zelos holds Lloyd's hands tight, because, dammit, he loves the feel of Lloyd's skin on his, holds his breath, and starts thinking how probably the ones that run into the wall are approximately 3/7 of one normal tile, which is about 0.42, or 0.43, but he'll say 0.42 because he likes even numbers better, and those that are interrupted by lights he's going to call about 1/8, which is exactly 0.125 (he has this memorized, of course), and by the time he's worked out that there are approximately one hundred and twenty-seven tiles, he can feel that his forehead muscles have eased, and he's breathing and thinking again, and he drops his eyes to Lloyd's eyes. Lloyd's eyes threaten to make him forget to breathe again, just like they always do. They're this beautifully clear, crystal brown. But Zelos steels himself and prepares to tell the truth.

Just the simple act of doing arithmetic in his head has unclogged his mind, disrupting the turmoil for a moment, and for that utterly splendid moment, everything is completely unclouded and brilliant, and he imagines that this is what sudden bursts of insight must feel like, because he's thinking (realizing?) that maybe now is not really the best time to let all the inherited fear his mother has been so kind to pass onto him shit on his possibilities, because this _is _a possibility. His mind is so disarmingly unclouded that it takes him a moment to speak, because he's still not used to all this sincerity, even after almost two years of terrifyingly honest dialogue with Lloyd.

None of the eloquence he's been allowed in recent years is with him right now, so Zelos just skips directly to the point and says in a voice that feels far too vulnerable and raw and _real _and he says in a choked voice that feels clearer than it has ever felt before, "_Martel, _Lloyd, I want to try for this."

Lloyd blinks, looking a little lost. "Oh," he says blankly. "Good."

"I mean," Zelos says, and it isn't that he expects to botch this, he just doesn't feel particularly eloquent, "I mean, come on. Let's be real here. I'm just this huge, tangled mess of—geez." He isn't sure what he's trying to say.

Lloyd nods, encouragingly, and Zelos is suddenly stricken with everything at once, how _Lloyd fucking Irving _has kissed him and wants to kiss him again and is holding his hands and holy shit, the boy Zelos has liked (probably loved, if he's still being honest) for basically forever has been thinking about him, too, and dammit, now is not the time to live out the life his mother always wanted for him, because that's not the life he wants for himself, and for a moment it's so selfish it makes him dizzy, but that's okay. It's an okay selfishness this time.

"I mean," Zelos says again, and he's talking fast now, but it's not completely out of panic this time; there's a bubbling excitement, a steady stream of suppressed hope coming out in his words, making them unsteady, and he feels like he's just blabbering again, but he can't bright himself to care, and he says, "I mean, Lloyd, shit, I love you, but there's all this stuff and I mean, my mom fucked me up pretty bad, and I don't know how capable I am of loving and being loved and I don't want to fuck you up, because I mean, goddammit, you're Lloyd Irving, and I'm terrified but that's not all, and I mean, I—"

Lloyd is laughing and interrupts with a gentle, "Hey," and puts a finger to Zelos's lips, silencing him quite nicely. "Shut up."

"I love you," Zelos says, and he feels giddy as he lets the words escape, and his chest feels like it's beating flutters, which is strange and new but in a good way, so he says it again, and the feeling only grows. He imagines this must be what pure, unadulterated happiness must feel like, and for a moment his mother doesn't matter and Kratos doesn't matter and Sheena and Raine and Genis's derision towards him doesn't matter, because he's for once in requited love, and he says with feeling again, forgetting to feel self-conscious about it, "I _love _you."

"Shut up," Lloyd says, but he's still laughing and still glowing and still tender towards him, and he says without even hesitating, "I love you, too," and Zelos pretends he doesn't hear the affectionately murmured _you dork_ as Lloyd leans in to kiss him again, because Lloyd is _kissing _him again, and that, well.

That is _great_.

And more importantly, it's enough. More than enough, if he wants to be honest.

At least till next year.

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><p><strong>Any commentssuggestions appreciated! :)**


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